your feet are bare and you step lightly into puddles dark with tarmac under it shining slick like oil and I ask you if you don’t mind cold feet and you smirk under the droplets slipping down your cheek like satin and you say that there is no such thing

A collection of letters I wrote directed to this one guy I USED to really really like. My friends and he knows who he was. I liked him in 8th grade back when I was stupid and sentimental . But they're pretty good, much deeper then I thought. R/R!